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1.31 a.m., the clocked lied. No answer. She must be gone, the beeping dot smiled. Children sleeping, men snoring, women drinking. Peace and quiet, they prayed to the clay Bull god, Studying the horseman's wrist with a handkerchief For a watch, for a torch in the other hand, She dreamed of the Samsara sahara safari. When morning came, softer than a whisper, She, a deer dancer, prepared kisses for the window, Waving blessings to the rest of her family, Watching them walk on the safety zone, protected pedestrians, Her heart relieved, she knew they would be coming back, Counting the dead crows in their mini zoo, She touched the crude wooden elephant's tail, accidentally, She slept soundly, evaporating into silence, The phone was her pillow. |
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